


Be Brave, Young Lovers.

by Beautyandlove



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: College Student Magnus Bane, M/M, Malec AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-06-15 01:51:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15402345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautyandlove/pseuds/Beautyandlove
Summary: “And Alexander,” He added quietly, tilting his head to the side. “The world hasfarbigger problems than boys who kiss boys and girls who kiss girls. Just some food for thought. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”Shaking his head, Alec kicked some pebbles with his foot and looked at Magnus—eyes unreadable. “See you around, Magnus.” He whispered and gave a small smile—intimate and full of awe—before he turned on his heel and walked back towards the church.Magnus trailed his eyes after him, unable to look away.OrThe Malec AU where Magnus is a philanderous law student and Alec is a Mormon missionary.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> “Be brave, young lovers, and follow your star.”  
> \- Oscar Hammerstein II.

Being a law student and a lothario was not uncommon, and Magnus did take some pride in the associated connotations because being too good locking, too excellent in bed, and too much of a genius in general had never proven to be anything but beneficial.

Even so, he was not entirely sure when or why his freewheeling bisexual ass had started sleeping around. Before he applied to UCLA he had promised himself that he would break the law-student fuck-boy stereotype, yet there he was, limping across campus after yet another night of meaningless sex with some ironically incompetent med student, silently praying to whatever God was listening that he could get back to his apartment without anyone noticing him.  

Sighing to himself, Magnus gave himself a reluctant once over. He was wearing the exact same clothes as yesterday which in itself was a dead giveaway. His dark slacks were covered by suspicious stains, his vest and his button up completely informal with creases in the most unflattering places, and his shoes were covered by what he hoped was vodka. He hadn’t even dared looking at himself in the mirror before he left whatever-his-name-was’s dorm. It was hardly necessary, Magnus was painfully aware that no amount of setting spray or hair gel could keep concealed the remains of sex.

Groaning tiredly, Magnus fixed his eyes on the ground. He had done many walks of shame throughout his four years at university but it seemed that after every time it got significantly more mortifying somehow. Maybe that was the consequence of growing up, he mused bitterly as his feet carried him towards the living quarters.

“You look like shit.” A familiar voice startled him and Magnus rolled his eyes at the approaching man, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Shut the fuck up, Raphael.” Magnus muttered but couldn’t help but smile when Raphael linked their arms together, handing him a well-needed coffee. The man, however annoying, always managed to be a goddamn lifesaver.  

“Who was it this time? The nurse, the accountant the med stu-“ Magnus gave him a warning look. “-the med student, huh? I thought he was terrible in bed?”

“Terrible still beats my right hand. You really ought to know these things by now, Raphael.” Magnus said and downed half the coffee in one go, skilfully dodging Raphael’s pitying look. It wasn’t that Magnus didn’t know he deserved better than terrible. It had been pointed out to him by countless people, including himself. The problem was that terrible was strangely comforting. With it came no attachments, feelings, or expectations and Magnus had grown accustomed to that burning feeling of almost adequate, just descent enough to make it worth his while. Pitying him was therefore not worth anyone’s while. “Stop looking at me like that” he huffed out and shrugged the man’s arm away, glancing around the next to deserted courtyard.

“If you keep sleeping with him you might have to reconsider dating him and you already know what I think. You des-.” Raphael reasoned, his tone a strange mix between concerned and ready-to-not-give-a-single-fuck.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.“ Magnus waved a nonchalant hand in his direction, fishing out a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it with nonexistent difficulty. Their banter was intentional, and probably the healthiest social interaction Magnus would have throughout any day. They went way back, him and Raphael and while they rarely saw eye to eye, they got along well - though they hardly had a choice, they were roommates after all.

“Excuse me? You know that smoking hurts not only you but your surroundings as well, don’t you?” An obnoxiously loud voice startled them from behind and Magnus pirouetted a graceful 180 degrees, the expression on his face hopefully murderous enough for the stranger to back the fuck off. He really wasn’t in the mood to be lectured about his admittedly questionable life choices.

“I’m sorry, what?” He all but growled and took an authoritative step towards the significantly younger man before him, raising his brows at the crisp white and well pressed shirt, the precise haircut and the black name tag attached to the front of his shirt.

“Elder Lewis, you can’t disappear on me like that.” Another voice suddenly sounded and before Magnus and Raphael could tactfully remove themselves from the situation, an almost identical man appeared beside him. He was wearing the same white shirt, sporting the same neat hairstyle but he was much taller, his smile blindingly bright and his eyes, God his eyes were the most hypnotic shade of hazel Magnus had ever seen. “He’s a greenie, I apologise for him. My name’s Elder Lightwood, I’m a missionary from the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. How are you today?” The man wondered, sounding genuinely interested.

Magnus squinted at him through wondrous eyes, the cigarette wastefully burning where it rested between his fingers. The man was unmistakably beautiful, his dark hair and his fair skin absolutely breathtaking and Magnus felt an uncomfortable tug at his heart. Shaking his head, he dropped the cigarette to the ground and offered the man one of his most sinful smiles, reaching his hand out for him to shake. “Now? Excellently.” He retorted coyly and caught the man’s gaze, notably taken aback when it didn’t falter as he shook Magnus’ hand. 

“That’s great to hear. What’s your name?” He asked politely and retrieved his hand. He looked noticeably flustered and Magnus straightened his posture in victory.

Figuring that it was at least worth a shot, Magnus reached into the inside pocket of his vest and took a step towards the man, fortuitously oblivious to his surroundings. “Magnus Bane, do call me.” He muttered seductively and scribbled his name and number on the man’s palm, making sure to hold on long enough for the heat from his fingers to leave a lasting effect on the other man’s hand. Elder Lightwood’s skin was soft, ritualistically moisturised probably, and he smelled divine. Magnus felt only the slightest bit self conscious since he smelled of cigarettes and sex. “See you around Mr. Lightwood.” And with that Magnus turned on his heel and walked off, smirking to himself. God, he needed help.

“What the hell was that?” It was Raphael and he sounded less than pleased, his shoes loud and heavy on the damp tarmac as he jogged to catch up with Magnus. “What the actual fuck was that back there?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Magnus said innocently and lit another cigarette, carefully glancing over his shoulder, delightfully surprised when Elder Lightwood was staring right back at him. It was by no means a long, or longing, look and he averted his eyes the second Magnus noticed him but it was a look. And Magnus was not used to being that affected by, or caring that much about, a single glance.

“I saw the way you looked at him, like he was a damn snack-“

“He wa-“ 

“No listen, Magnus. Did you not see their name tags, did you not see their shirts, did you not notice how they called each other ‘Elder’? They’re Mormon missionaries.” Oh, so that’s why they looked so familiar, he had slammed the door more times than he liked to admit in their faces. “Not to mention he looked as straight as they come. You’re going to get hur-“ 

“Let me stop you right there. He was good looking as hell, that’s it. Straight or not, he was good looking and you know me, I’m a sucker for a man in a tie. Besides, he doesn’t have to call me if he doesn’t want to. That marker comes off with soap and a little bit of elbow grease”

“I trust you see the flaw in your plan right?” Raphael asked and Magnus gave him a curious look, the burning from the cigarette making him momentarily lightheaded. “You just willingly gave your number to the Mormons, they will try and convert you”

“Trying to convert me would be a bigger mistake on their part.” Magnus noted slowly and offered a small smile.

“Just—don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“Have I ever?” Magnus scoffed and tossed the cigarette to the ground, pushing open the door to their apartment building.

Later that evening, Magnus found himself pressed up against a wall in some back room of a bar, completely and overwhelmingly consumed by pleasure. His tinder date’s hands were skilfully guiding their hips together, alternating between blissfully slowly and mind-blowingly quickly until lMagnus came long and hard, his moans broken and so loud that he could not hear his phone ringing.

Not until about an hour later, when his legs had stopped trembling and when he had regained enough composure to commence his usual walk of shame back to his apartment, did he notice the one missed phone call and the two unread text messages lighting up his phone. Both were from an unknown number, one Magnus could not recall ever seeing before, and he almost tripped over his own feet, re-reading the text messages with a wide grin quickly spreading across his face.

 **From Unknown (22.37):** Hey Magnus, this is Elder Lightwood from earlier today. I was wondering if you’d like to meet up sometime, with myself and Elder Lewis, to discuss a few basic teachings of the church and get to know each other a little better?

 **From Unknown (22.53):** Also, I wanted to let you know that you looked beautiful today. I know that is inappropriate (I’m trying to be honest with myself despite what the church says) but I thought you deserved to know. I hope to see you soon.

Stopping dead in his tracks, Magnus looked around the dark night and tilted his head to the side in complete shock, his heart strumming quickly in his chest. Shaking his head in disbelief, he typed a quick reply and started jogging the rest of the way, his feet suddenly lighter than any cloud because the man with the bright hazel eyes had thought he looked beautiful.

 _To Unknown (23.45):_ Name a time and a place and I’ll be there. Also, do you have a first name? Calling you Elder seems awfully archaic.

Just as Magnus was about to fall asleep, a short reply lit up his bedroom. Squinting his eyes at the small text, Magnus hoisted himself up on his elbows and gave a small smile, reading with a newfound type of excitement the short but clearly well orchestrated reply.

 **From Unknown (00.58):** I shouldn’t tell you this but my name is Alec, short for Alexander. I hope I didn’t freak you out by my earlier text, if I did I’m eternally sorry.

Biting his lip in concentration, Magnus wrote a reply in return, slightly concerned at the way his heart was racing uncontrollably in his chest.

 _To Unknown (00.59):_ I’m glad you’re being true to yourself, Alec. And for the record, I thought you looked beautiful, too. See you around.

Closing his eyes and dropping the phone to his nightstand, Magnus groaned into his pillow, unable to phantom how quickly he had taken an interest in the most gorgeous and apparently closeted mormon missionary there ever was.


	2. Love Is Patient

Magnus was jogging, however slowly, towards the address on his phone, furrowing his brows when he came face to face with a large, modern-looking white chapel, big impressive windows facing the sidewalk on which he was currently standing, catching his breath—smoking, as it turned out, made running a lot more challenging than it should be.

He was almost early—which was entirely uncharacteristic of him—and he had ensured to dress to impress, wearing a pair of tight fitting pinstriped slacks, a navy silk top, and a deep red suede blazer. Even his makeup, Magnus admitted, looked impeccable—vibrant yet charming—and his hair was as tall as his ego which, sadly, was just how he liked it.

He was noticeably nervous though, almost apprehensive, but the thought of seeing the hazel eyed man again made him suppress his initial instinct to run back to the self-destructive whole he had supposedly dug himself, according to Raphael. There was just something about the way Alec was, yet wasn’t, the most paradoxical human begin Magnus had ever met that made him want to get to know him. See for himself what made _Alexander_ such an interesting sight to behold.

“Magnus, sorry to keep you waiting.” A familiar voice sounded from behind him and Magnus turned towards the pleasant sound with a glint in his eyes, showing off a big and bright smile when he spotted the two men walking towards him.

It was a glorious day, the skies were painted a brilliant blue above their heads, and the two Elders were wearing short sleeved white dress shirts, black slacks, black ties and those same name tags from last time. The sun was shining down on them and while Magnus considered himself elegantly tactful and conscious of his own actions, he couldn’t help but stare at Alec when they approached him.

He looked like an expensive piece of art. His dark brown hair was hanging down his forehead, his smile was infectious, prettily so, and his eyes were shining when they met Magnus’— Magnus was rarely at a loss for words but it appeared the man before him, however momentary, had rendered him speechless.

The memory he had of Alec really didn’t do him justice.

Tilting his head to the side, Magnus straightened his back and gestured with his hands in the air. “Nonsense, I just arrived. Besides, for _you_ , Elder Lightwood, I’d be willing to wait for days. There’s therefore no need to apologise, regardless.” He reassured coyly, and beamed at the blush that spread across Alec’s cheeks and down his neck.

“Even so, we’re sorry we’re late. Something—came up,” Alec said, and Magnus marvelled at the way his eyes darted around their surroundings, near chaotically, before he fixed them on his watch, nodding his head in the direction of the chapel before leading the way. “Let’s go inside, there’s a youth group starting in about an hour and a half and we have to have left by then.”

“Planing on having me stay that long? I’m intrigued,” Magnus huffed out, more so to himself than to anyone else, though it was obvious that Alec had heard him since he titled his head and smiled sinfully attractively over his shoulder. “Not that I mind,” Magnus clarified quietly and it felt like he committed one of the seven deadly sins when his eyes, completely innocently, landed on Alec’s ass.

To Magnus’ defence though, it was an incredibly nice ass.

“After you,” Alec offered, and held open the door for him, his outstretched arm showing off his muscular forearm.

“Will I burst into flames if I enter?” Magnus decided to ask, somewhat seriously, gesturing to himself. Alec looked like he was biting his lip to stop himself from saying something he shouldn’t as he shook his head. “Forgive me for asking but I am somewhat unconventional, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes, we would say.” Elder Lewis’ voice come from somewhere behind them and Magnus was ashamed, admittedly briefly, that he had forgotten he was there.

“Don’t mind him, unconventional is—good. Refreshing,” Alec spoke, and judging from his wide eyes and pale face, he had not intended to say the words out loud—it only made him even more interesting, Magnus thought as he touched his spiderweb ear-cuff.

Stepping inside, Magnus made sure to brush his shoulder against Alec’s chest—it was very muscular. “I couldn’t agree more.” Alec laughed at his reply and _there_ there was that feeling again, that fluttering of his heart that made his breath catch in his throat.

Looking around, the church was very— _sterile_ — with straight and clean-cut lines of whites and beiges running throughout the neat entrance hall. It matched the men to Magnus’ left almost comically well and he couldn’t help but scoff at the various pictures of Jesus hanging on the walls.

“It’s very—white in here. Must be hard to keep clean,” Magnus observed out loud as he walked into what he assumed was the church part of the chapel—tall ceiling, rows of pews running down the centre of the room, what looked like an altar at the very front surrounded by about a dozen chairs on either side.

It was unlike any other church Magnus had entered and he wasn’t entire sure if there were words—let alone the right ones—that could describe how out of place he felt in this particular one.

“This is where we hold our Sacrament meetings every Sunday,” Alec’s voice echoed and as he said it, Magnus could see all the hymn books and scriptures scattered everywhere as if they had materialised out of thin air. “This over here-“ Alec walked over to the other end of the room and opened a small side door. “-is where we’ll be today.”

“Is this where you kill me and sacrifice my body?” Magnus jested under his breath, and quirked his brows when Elder Lewis giggled next to him.

“This isn’t a movie. Although if it were, we’d totally kill you,” Lewis said, and offered him a sideways glance, youthful and innocent.

“What’s your name?” Magnus wondered as he followed Alec into the room that was small enough to induce claustrophobia, dark and unwelcoming—truly nightmarish.

“Simon, although you should call me Elder, or Elder Lewis, or Lewis, or-“

“Got it. Thanks, Simon.” Magnus smirked and felt his breath catch when Alec barked out a loud laugh as he dumped his backpack on the table in front of them.

“I think we’re all going to get along just fine. Take a seat, Magnus,” Alec pointed to one of the chairs. “They’re not very comfortable but I think that’s what they were going for. Wouldn’t look very good if people started falling asleep during meetings,” Alec joked, and Magnus huffed out a small breath when he took a seat and his feet collided with Alec’s.

“Are you telling me that you’re about to bore me to death instead? Because that’s still murder.”

Shaking his head, Alec looked up at him, eyes sparking. “Tell us a little bit about yourself, Magnus.”

Clearing his throat, Magnus strummed his fingers against the wooden table. “I”m studying to become a defence attorney. I live with my friend Raphael, you’ve met him,” Magnus racked his brain trying to think of an appropriate way of saying I’m an atheist and I rarely sleep in my own bed at night. “As of now, I don’t attend church regularly, or at all, and I consider myself a—freewheeling bisexual.”

Almost immediately, there was a tension that fell over the room—thick enough that you could cut it with a knife—and, naively, Magnus wondered where he had misspoken.

“Bisexual?” Simon was the first one to speak up. “As in you like both men and women?”

“Yes, as it were. Is that going to be a problem?” Magnus responded and was surprised at the harshness of his tone. He looked at Alec.

“Not really, I just assumed you were gay,” Simon said, and Magnus marvelled at how incredibly untactful the man was—had it not been downright offensive, Magnus might actually have chuckled at the sheer inappropriateness.

“I choose to take that as a compliment,” Magnus retorted, and he made sure to look at Alec as he said it.

“As you should. Everyone’s welcome here,” Alec reassured seriously, and Magnus thought he looked devastated all of a sudden, pained even. “God loves all his children.”

“Where does your church stand on gay marriage?” Magnus decided to ask, already knowing the answer but curious to see how the men before him would react.

“The church does not allow gay marriage,” Simon said— completely unphased by the question—and Magnus grimaced at the pride that coloured his tone—it was 2018 and there were still people, people roughly his own age, that were so fucking, infuriatingly dense that it was beyond maddening.

“But everyone is loved equally by the _almighty_ heavenly father?” Magnus all but mocked and shrugged off his blazer, suddenly feeling hot under the collar.

“Yes,” Simon said slowly, and Magnus titled his head at him, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What he’s trying to say is,” Alec chimed in and his apologetic expression did not go unnoticed by Magnus. “Being gay is not a sin. Having—relations— with a same sex partner in itself isn’t technically a sin. It’s the act of premarital sex that the church regards as sinful, and that’s irregardless of you sexual orientation. I suppose you can see the problem.”

“Doesn’t such—hypocrisy bother you?” Magnus pointed out, and leaned over the table to tap his finger—his ring clad and glitter-polished finger—against the Book of Mormon that was sitting in front of Alec. “Isn’t that a horrible message to teach kids that it’s okay to be gay but not to act on your feelings? Because of—of _some_ _book_?”

“It kind of sucks but marriage is supposed to be between a man and a woman. It’s God’s will and there’s nothing we can do about it,” Simon spoke, undeterred. His prosody the same disturbingly proud as before.

Magnus choked out a bitter laugh and rested his hand against his forehead. “Bullshit,” He sneered, watching Simon flinch at the profanity.

“Elder Lewis,” Alec warned lowly.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“In this case, Elder, true is less important than appropriate,” Alec groaned—he actually groaned—and sighed so deeply that Magnus almost felt the need to ask if he was okay. “I’m sorry, Magnus.”

“There’s not need to apologise. I’ve heard worse.” Magnus brushed it off, fiddling with the rings on his fingers. Normally, Magnus would have battled to the end of the world for his—and everyone’s—right to love and be loved but he let it go for Alec. The man who looked at Magnus with an intensity—a gratefulness—that spoke louder than any words ever could.

Biting his lip, Magnus observed him with weary eyes, seeing the way his index finger scratched the inside of his palm, the way his lips were tightly, but professionally, pressed together, and the way his eyes danced around the room, falling to Magnus every so often.

_It really couldn’t be easy for him._

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. Why don’t we start from the beginning and work our way through the doctrine?” Alec suggested with a reluctant smile, and Magnus leaned back in his chair, never taking his eyes off him. “Let’s start with the word of wisdom.”

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

After what felt like an eternity, Magnus rushed down the steps of the church and took a deep, shuddered breath, realising that the beautiful day had turned a sad, dusky, grey in the course of an hour.

How humorously fitting.

“Magnus, wait up.” Magnus pirouetted a cautious 180 and let out a reluctant laugh when he saw Alec run down the steps after him, waving his blazer in the air. “You forgot this,” He breathed when he came to a stop, holding the fabric out for Magnus to take.

“Thank you, Alexander. I do love this one, it would’ve been a tragedy if the church had held it hostage,” Magnus exclaimed with his usual overdramatic flare, and felt the initial tension immediately leave his shoulders.

“Yeah, well, it looks good on you. I like the colour,” Alec admitted, and the lopsided grin that spread across his face made up for their gloomy surroundings.

“Thank you.” Magnus beamed and looked down at their feet—at his pointy boots and at Alec’s smart oxfords. He traced his fingers over his rings when Alec remained quiet. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“Before, did you meant it?” Alec blurted out, and Magnus furrowed his brows at him, eyes wide in question.

“Mean what?”

“That you’d wait for me for days?”

Taken aback, Magnus opened and closed his mouth—how did one respond to such unapologetic bluntness? “I suppose,” He decided after a while, knowing he made the right decision when a small, hesitant smile tugged at the corner of the other man’s mouth.

“Magnus I—I should probably go. I’m not supposed to leave Elder Lewis’ side—missionary rules.” He looked disappointed and Magnus’ fingers twitched as he tried to stop himself from reaching out for him.

“Right, duty calls,” Magnus chuckled, and put on his blazer, about to turn and walk away when Alec’s hand caught his arm, expression unintelligible.

Magnus took a step closer to him.

“You don’t care about the teachings, do you?” Alec stated more so than asked, and gave Magnus a curious look.

“What gave it away?” Magnus inquired ironically, and took another step closer to Alec, smelling his cologne as a gust of wind rustled the trees around them—it was masculine yet somehow sweeter than honey and Magnus was suddenly convinced, admittedly hyperbolically, that Alec was the force that made the world turn on its own axis.

And he was still holding Magnus’ arm.

“Then why did you come?” Alec asked, and there was something about the way he said it, something about his tone, that sent chills down Magnus’ spine—like Alec was fully aware of the effect he was having on him.

“I’m not sure yet.”

“Will I see you again?” Alec wondered and withdrew his hand—Magnus hoped his disappointment at the loss of contact didn’t show on his face.

“I hope so,” Magnus breathed, and his answer seemed to satisfy Alec since he nodded his head. “Alexander?” Magnus spoke up just as the other man was about to turn around. “You really are something special, aren’t you?”

That seemed to catch him off guard because he turned to face Magnus, a genuinely confused expression on his face. It was the first time Magnus had seen him break character, the first time he hadn’t looked—in control. “I’m no one special, believe me.”

“On the contrary,” Magnus said and took a single step towards him, suddenly close enough to see the slight dryness of his lips and the faded scar over his right eyebrow. “Oh and-“ Magnus reached forward to straighten the collar of Alec’s shirt, making sure to touch his cheek as he withdrew his hand. “-there. Much better,” He mumbled, and looked up at Alec through his lashes, happily surprised to see him staring right back at him, cheeks flustered. “And Alexander,” He added quietly, tilting his head to the side. “The world has _far_ bigger problems than boys who kiss boys and girls who kiss girls. Just some food for thought. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Shaking his head, Alec kicked some pebbles with his foot and looked at Magnus—eyes unreadable. “See you around, Magnus,” He whispered, and gave a small smile—intimate and full of awe—before he turned on his heel and walked back towards the church.

Magnus trailed his eyes after him, unable to look away. To his surprise though, Alec glanced back at him just as he was about to enter the building, catching his gaze one last time. Magnus didn’t usually blush but he did that time, a deep scarlet at that, and it worsened significantly when Alec waved his fingers in his direction, quirking his brows before disappearing inside.

Magnus wasn’t sure how long he stood on the pavement but after what seemed like a lifetime, there was a sudden buzzing of his phone that startled—rather than eased—him back to reality.

 **Alexander (15.52):** It was nice seeing you today. I could tell that you were offended by some of the teachings but I don’t judge you or what you choose to do. I just wanted you to know that.

Magnus replied as he started walking, feeling unusually—alive for a Wednesday afternoon.

 _Magnus (15.53):_ Do you always confess your honesty over text or am I special?

 **Alexander (16.00):** No, I don’t. I suppose you are quite special in that way.

 _Magnus (16.01):_ Why do you do it?

 **Alexander (16.13):** Why do I do what?

 _Magnus (16.13):_ Why do you only say what you want to say to me over text and not in person?

 **Alexander (16.20):** I don’t know. I guess it’s less complicated.

 _Magnus (16.22):_ Don’t be afraid of the things which are complicated, Alexander. Complicated can be good, excellent even.

 **Alexander (16.25):** I’ll believe it when I see it. :)

 _Magnus (16.26):_ You probably shouldn’t have said that. I specialise in all things complicated. :)

Magnus put his phone back in his pocket and there was a lightness to his step when he walked back to his and Raphael’s apartment, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lip as he made his way inside.

That hadn’t gone nearly as disastrously as he had anticipated.

 

 

* * * * *

 

 

Roughly, Magnus was pushed up against the wall of a backroom in Pandemonium, a pair of lips attached to his own as a hand found its way down the front of his boxers.

Indubitably, they were both slightly intoxicated.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” The man—who’s name Magnus couldn’t quite recall but who looked like a goddamn greek god—all but purred.

Under normal circumstances, Magnus would have begged to be fucked by him right there and then but the only thing he could think about was Alec and that was—ironically—far more distracting than the mouth currently sucking him off.

He couldn’t forget the way Alec’s eyes had sparked earlier that day, the way his hand had felt against his arm, the way he had laughed, the way he had held Magnus’ gaze, the way he had gestured with his hands as he spoke and the way he had told Magnus he looked good in his favourite red blazer—the hopeful glint in his eyes and the smell of his cologne.

The mere thought of him made Magnus slightly dizzy.

Shaking his head, Magnus felt an unfamiliar sense of panic rise in his chest as the man picked up the pace—squeezing his balls as he moaned Magnus’ name—, the wetness of his mouth and the way his hair tickled Magnus’ thighs suddenly nothing more than unnerving discomfort.

Erratic and aggressive in ways that made Magnus’ eyes sting.

“No—no. Stop—get off me,” Magnus choked out, and pushed himself off the wall, pulling up his trousers while he tried to catch his breath.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No—no. You’re fine, I just can’t do this right now,” Magnus muttered, and turned to leave when a strong hand tugged him to a halt, bellicose where it pulled Magnus back into the room.

“Wait, are we not going to finish?” Stew, or Steve, or Sherwin, gowled and Magnus rolled his eyes and gave him one of his more condescending glares, forcefully pulling his arm out of his grasp.

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Magnus barked. “Goodbye, Sean.”

“It’s Solomon, actually. Asshole.”

“I don’t give a shit.”

Magnus jogged all the way back to his and Raphael’s place and ignored the group of people currently studying at his coffee table. Clumsily, he rushed into his room, grabbed a pair of sweat trousers and a hoodie and darted for the bathroom, turning on the shower the second he entered.

Stripping slowly, Magnus felt dirty— _filthy_ —when he looked at himself in the mirror. Dark mouth-shaped bruises were covering his chest, red scratch marks were visible on his abs, and his makeup looked horrendous—smudged, and running, and completely appalling.

Shaking his head, he stepped into the shower and felt the warm stream hit his chest, the normally soothing and comforting water almost scalding when his knees gave out and he slid down the wall, resting his head against his knees.

He was furious—at least that’s what he told himself when he tried to push back the pressure building behind his eyes —with Alec, with his smile, his nice smell, his kind words, his bluntness. He was pissed off because he had been completely fine with mediocre, with being groped by strangers in backrooms of bars until Alec had come along and made him realise that he not only deserved better—he already knew that—but that he _wanted_ better.

That there _was_ better.

 _Better_ , Magnus chuckled bitterly, had never seemed to want him back. And god if that didn’t break his fucking heart in half.

He sat on the floor of the shower, crying his eyes out, until the water turned an uncomfortable cold and he, by some miracle, managed to muster up the strength to move. It was dark by the time he walked into his bedroom and the apartment was still, eery, when he flung himself on his bed and prayed to the deities he didn’t believe in—but the one’s Alec did confide in— that he would fall asleep before he could further reminisce on the tragedy that was his life.

After all, one self-inflicted heartbreak was enough for one night. Even for him.

Almost asleep, the sound of his phone buzzing startled him and he sat up, blindly reaching for the flashing screen.

 **Alexander (00.00):** Somehow complicated has never sounded more...complicated. Should I be worried? ;)

Magnus lost his breath when he saw the inserted smiley face and his cheeks flushed a deep red as another message popped up a moment later—it was slightly disconcerting, the affect this man seemed to have on him. He instantaneously made Magnus happier.

 **Alexander (00.01):** Anyway... Goodnight, Magnus. I hope you’ve had a pleasant evening. Sweet dreams.

Sighing contently, Magnus replied.

 _Magnus (00.01):_ That’s up for you to decide. ;) Goodnight, Alexander.

Biting his lip, Magnus closed his eyes and sent off another text—quickly and before he could come to his senses or change his mind.

 _Magnus (00.04):_ You make me want to be a better person.

 _There_. A simple confession though it felt more like a promise—to himself or to Alec, he wasn’t entirely sure.

 **Alexander (00.06):** And you make me want to be brave. Strange, isn’t it?

 _Magnus (00.08):_ All beautiful things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways.

 **Alexander (00.10):** Did you just call this situation beautiful?

 _Magnus (00.11):_ Perhaps.

 **Alexander (00.13):** I can’t tell if you’re being cryptic or coy. Either way, it’s refreshing.

 _Magnus (00.14):_ And I can’t seem to figure you out. It appears we both have conundrums that intrigue us.

 **Alexander (00.16):** Is that a good thing?

 _Magnus (00.17):_ It’s a wonderful thing.

 **Alexander (00.20):** Oh, okay. :)

 **Alexander (00.20):** That makes me oddly happy. Sleep tight, Magnus.

Magnus was sober—possibly bordering on tipsy—but Alec made him feel drunk, wasted beyond belief. He had no clue what he was doing though, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled as widely as he did in that moment—genuinely and seemingly for no good reason—so he allowed himself the luxury of soaking it in—if only for a minute or two.

 _Magnus (00.28):_ Goodnight, Alexander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “All living things contain a measure of madness that moves them in strange, sometimes inexplicable ways.”  
> ― Yann Martel, Life of Pi 
> 
> Thank you for reading. ❤️✨


	3. Love is Kind

Magnus was sitting opposite Alec in the same church and room as last time, the metal armrests of the uncomfortable chairs digging into his side as he turned in his seat, strumming his fingers against the table.

His nails were painted a deep maroon that day and Alec was looking at him with an intensity that made him feel naked despite his three-piece suit--his initial reluctance to meet with him again now seemed awfully ludicrous since it appeared Alec was as much of a delight to stare at as he was to be stared at by. No amount of self-control could ever change that. Not even the fact that the entire chapel reeked of ignorance and bigotry. 

“The law of chastity,” Magnus therefore commenced and tipped his head to the side. He didn’t really care but he liked hearing Alec talk. “You said I could ask you anything my heart desired if I met with you again so dazzle me, Elder,” Magnus exclaimed, and gestured with his hands nonchalantly, the thin silver bracelet circling his wrist catching on the hem of his shirt as he moved, pulling at a loose thread Magnus had meant to fix but never got around to.

“And now I regret promising you that,” Alec chuckled, and Magnus was delighted to see a blush make its way onto the other man’s face. “But alright, chastity is--sexual purity. Those who are chaste are morally clean in their thoughts, words, and actions. Chastity means not having any sexual relations before marriage. It also means complete fidelity to your husband or wife _during_ marriage. The law of chastity is one of the three main commandments we as church members follow,” Alec all but orated and it sounded awfully robotic, his slim fingers fiddling with the collar of his white shirt, tugging at the top button.

It was an endearing nervous habit.

Scoffing, Magnus leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers though his hair, pulling at the small knots formed by his hair gel as he offered the taller man a weak smile. “That seems awfully vague if you ask me. Though I suppose I’m screwed either way. I regularly lay with both men and women outside of marriage,” Magnus joked, and made sure to study Alec’s face as he said it. To his surprise though, Alec seemed admittedly unphased by the bluntness—pleased even. His eyes carried that same hopeful glint they had when they’d said goodbye a few days back. “What are the other two commandments?”

“The word of wisdom—Elder Lewis told you about that last time-“

“Right—the no coffee, no smoking, no alcohol rule. The buzzkill commandment,” Magnus recalled sarcastically, making Alec laugh a bit too loudly for their quiet conversation though Magnus thought it was perfectly appropriate. Laughter looked good on the rule-abiding missionary. “Magnus, you’re just-” He trailed off, shaking his head, and Magnus shrugged his shoulders in acknowledgement, poking at his spiderweb ear cuff as he nudged Alec’s foot under the table. 

“A little much, perhaps?” He offered, following Alec with his gaze as the taller man got up from his seat and maneuvered around the table to sit next to him, their shoulders touching when Alec leaned back in his chair. Magnus, though he realized how irrational his feelings were, was simultaneously taken aback yet enamoured with the close proximity.

“Maybe,” Alec mused, and tipped his head to the side, giving Magnus a sideways glance. “But you’re so-- _different_ from everyone else I’ve ever met.”

“Is that a good thing?” Magnus hesitated and crossed his legs under the table, touching his ankle to Alec’s leg in the process, feeling the heat from his skin through their trousers. 

“Are you kidding?” He exclaimed, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “The world needs more people like you, people who are so unapologetically themselves that it puts everyone else to shame. Believe me, it’s a good thing,” Alec said, and Magnus was overcome by that feeling again, that disconcerting fluttering of his heart that constricted his breathing in the most pleasant yet terrifying way imaginable.  

“Alexander,” Magnus breathed, and felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for meeting the man before him—getting to experience his kindness, his smile, and the gaze that made Magnus a little weak to the knees.

He suspected that Alec had no idea how wounderous he was though. Magnus had met people like him before, the eternally good people who believed they owed the world their life, and it was a great shame. If anyone in the world deserved love it was people like Alec. The self-sacrificing idiots whose kind-hearted nature exuded the type of rare light found in the earliest of dawns and in the glimmering of broken shards of glass. 

The ones who were kaleidoscopic in nature--unpredictable but eternally beautiful. 

“Anyway,” Alec shook his head as if he was coming to his senses, bobbing his leg up and down. “The last commandment concerns tithes and offerings. As church members we are encouraged to give 10 percent of our income to the church every month. As missionaries we are exempt from this commandment but it’s something we all promise to do to the best of our abilities when we get baptized,” Alec said and turned in his seat, crossing his arms behind his head.

His elbow was gently resting on the back of Magnus’ chair, close enough that if Magus had had the time he could have counted the hairs on his arm. Instead, Magnus cleared his throat and shot him a curious look. “Speaking of unclear and unreasonable, where is Elder Lewis?” 

Alec simpered and bit his lip in a way that shouldn’t have looked as positively sinful as it did, laughing quietly. “He’s upstairs writing emails. Today is Monday which—at least to us missionaries--means P-day.”

“P-day?” Magnus echoed and leaned his elbow on the table, his back uncharacteristically slouched as he studied Alec through his lashes. 

“Preparation day. It’s the day when we get to e-mail our families, do our laundry, go grocery shopping,” Alec explained and followed suit, resting his elbow on the table next to Magnus’, eyes wide as he smiled at him. “It’s the only day we can spend some time apart. It can get rather—challenging—spending every waking hour around someone as _energetic_ as Elder Lewis,” Alec admitted, and Magnus could feel his breath on his lips, warm and strangely comforting—he smelled like mint. 

“Then why do you do it? Why go on a mission if you only get one— _one_ —day a week to yourself?” Magnus asked, voice orotund as he bit the inside of his cheek when Alec squinted at him, shrugging his shoulders. “No offense, but that sounds awful.”

“It’s different for everyone,” Alec commented, and Magnus let his eyes fall to the other man’s fingers--they were sprawled out between them, gently strumming against the table. “Lewis went because he genuinely wanted to. The same with my sister Isabelle. They wanted to serve the Lord and recognised that a mission was a necessary sacrifice.”

“And you?” Magnus whispered but it sounded awfully loud in the dimmed room.

Alec was quiet for a moment, his fingers tapping a bit more frantically on the wood before he locked eyes with Magnus. “It’s complicated. You’re allowed to go on your mission when you turn 18 as a guy, 19 as a girl. Back then I was inactive—I never went to church. My family hated it, of course they did. My—my parents are very religious and set in their ways. They raised us to be good Mormons and as a _good Mormon_ it’s your duty to serve a mission. It’s really not as voluntary as they make it out to be,” Alec rushed out, quickly and clumsily and much like a glass of overflowing water. 

Humming phatically, Magnus let his hand rest on the table as well. “Why were you inactive, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Because I was— _I am_ —gay. I couldn’t just sit there and hear them preach about the perfect family knowing I’d never have that or that I’d have a family but be unhappily married to some woman and miserable for the rest of my life.”

Closing his eyes at the overt answer to the question he had been too reluctant to ask Alec ever since they met, Magnus felt his heart break for him. He’d figured that Alec was in the closet but t _his_. This was gut-wrenching.

“My parents forced me to speak to our local bishop, confess why I refused to attend church or go on a mission since I refused to talk to them about it. I did, and it took four years for him to clear me for my mission—that’s why I’m five years older than Elder Lewis.”

Furrowing his brows, Magnus opened his eyes and found Alec staring at him, eyes glassed over. “You never answered the question though.”

Sighing deeply, Alec’s fingers stilled on the table. “I went on a mission because my younger brother Max was killed in a freak car accident and my parents were absolutely heartbroken. We all were. I figured, since I was the only son they had left, that it was my responsibility to make them proud. I went on my mission, and back to church and the— _unreasonable_ —teachings for them. For Max,” Alec huffed out and before Magnus could register his hand moving, it was clutching Alec’s—carefully yet for dear life.

Alec turned his hand and Magnus brought their entangled fingers towards his chest, holding them close as he took a shuddered breath, heart aching for more than Alec’s loss. “I’m so sorry, Alexander. I had no idea.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay. It was a long time ago now, anyway,” Alec mumbled, squeezing Magnus’ hand even tighter—the many rings trapped between them suddenly heavier than Magnus was used to. Colder somehow.

“You’re speaking as if the pain of losing someone you love is finite. It usually isn’t and that’s why I’m sorry,” Magnus reasoned and nudged his foot to Alec’s, wishing—not for the first time—that he could hug him so tightly that they both forgot everything for a while. 

Sucking in a deep breath, Alec moved a bit closer to him, the tension between them tangible in the chills running down Magnus’ spine every time Alec breathed. “Why does it sound like you’re speaking from experience?” He mused, and Magnus cast his eyes downward, suddenly feeling simultaneously invasive and vulnerable as he looked at him. Like he was staring at something he shouldn’t.

“My mother died two years ago—cancer.”

“I’m sorry, Magnus,” Alec sighed, and Magnus snapped his eyes open when Alec’s fingers touched his forehead, tucking a strand of his unruly bangs back in place before trailing down the side of his face. Magnus felt himself go cross-eyed as he followed the other man’s movements with his gaze, near paralyzing shock rushing through him at how gentle and tactile Alec was. It contrasted so completely to the serious expression he seemed to wear most of the time. “Can I ask you something?” Alec wondered as his hand stilled on Magnus’ cheek.

Unable to formulate words—of any kind it appeared---, Magnus nodded his head and felt his skin tingle when Alec withdrew his hand, pretending that he didn’t miss the feeling of his fingers—though the goosebumps forming on his wrist made it much harder to act as nonchalantly as he would have liked.

“You’ve spoken to me as if you’ve known I was gay ever since we met. How did you know?” Alec asked, and Magnus gave him a curious glance, unable to contain the subtle smirk that tugged at his lips.

“Alexander, besides my foolproof gaydar, you did call me beautiful. I have yet met a straight man who’s called another man beautiful. I blame toxic masculinity.” Magnus curved his lip and he had to actively remind himself that Alec was a Mormon missionary, someone Magnus normally would’ve stayed as far away from as possible. Someone who now, all of a sudden, was closer and more intimately comforting, somehow, than anyone else had been to and with him in a very long time and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t overwhelming.

Because it was, and he was having an admittedly hard time dealing with it. 

Alec looked unsure for a moment, his eyes downcast. He was humming though, prettily so, and Magnus was mesmerised by everything Alec was—continuously ignoring the voice telling him to not get too invested. It seemed a bit late for that, anyway. 

“I meant it,” Alec breathed suddenly, his tone hoarse as his face twisted in that wonderful way it always seemed to do, brightly and assuredly, and Magnus was dumbstruck with a desire to care less about things—or peoples as it were in this particular instance. They had spent no more than a grand total of seven hours together and the taller man had already taken his breath away more times than he’d like to admit. It was as if Magnus could feel his walls of reason being torn down, struck to pieces, and he didn’t like it. But he liked Alec and though the thought made him blanch, it was all bit too paradoxical for his mumchance, overthinking, brain to handle so he decided to let that go as well. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Magnus choked out a laugh, breathy and confused, as he glanced at the celling, the sound of his own heartbeat loud and quick in his ears—he wondered if Alec could hear it, too. “You’re the first sober person to call me that in a very long time, you know. You better be careful, Alexander. It’d be a shame if you broke my heart.” Magnus managed after a while, jokingly batting his eyelashes in Alec’s direction but even he could admit that there was some truth to it.

Alec licked his lips and huffed out a shuddered breath--he looked as flustered with the conversation as Magnus felt. “I blame you, you know. You make me say the dumbest things.”

Shaking his head, Magnus let his hand fall on the table between them again, observing the way the light from the various spotlights in the ceiling reflected off of his nail polish. “I’m very glad we met, Alexander,” He admitted, bowing his head to shield the blush crawling up his neck.

“Do you want to know something?” Alec wondered and pushed himself into a more upright position. “We never should have met that day.”

“What do you mean?”

“We were lost when Elder Lewis started speaking to you and Raphael. We had no idea where we were or how to get back to our apartment.” Alec laughed and cast his eyes heavenward. “We shouldn’t have met but—we did, and every time I look at you I’m struck by this feeling that—I feel like I know you, already. Which is crazy, I know-“

“It’s not crazy,” Magnus interjected, his voice on the verge of bristle. Alec had taken the words right out of his own mouth, beautifully and calmly explaining just how Magnus felt and out of nowhere, overwhelmed did not begin to cover how he felt anymore. Alec had a way with words, a careful but naïve colouring to them, and it was enough for Magnus to look at him in wonder.

He knew it sounded cliché, and he loathed himself from admitting it, but it felt like the sanest thing anyone had said in far too long. Serendipitous even. 

“We weren’t supposed to meet but we did,” Alec repeated, clenching his jaw. “We did and now I—I can’t stop thinking about you, Magnus. I shouldn’t but I can’t help myself. I mean, look at you. Look at yourself. You’re stunning. And I’m screwed. _I’m screwed_.” He threw his hands in the air, frustration visible in his features as he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“You think I’m stunning?” Magnus asked, and he could feel the way his eyes shone as he looked at Alec, taking in the other man’s furrowed brows and ruffled hair as if for the very first time. “You’re stunning, too, Alexander. Absolutely breathtaking.”

“That’s what you took from that?” Alec exclaimed, the glimmer in his eyes so shocked that it made Magnus giggled quietly, leaning forwards to poke his shoulder. 

“No,” He huffed out and pushed his chair back, standing up. “But it’s what I chose to comment on,” He stated matter-of-factly. 

Alec looked endearingly puzzled.

“Where are you going?” Alec asked when Magnus grabbed his studded jacket from the back of his chair, putting it on as he made his way towards the door. 

“To hell, probably.” He grinned, and held the door open for Alec who jumped to his feet, a lopsidedly smirk twisting his face in two as he walked past Magnus. “Want to come with? I’ve heard the weather there’s a delight,” Magnus muttered under his breath as his eyes trailed down Alec’s backside yet again, lingering on the ass that looked just as sinful as it did last time. 

“You know that Mormons don’t believe in hell, right?” Alec clarified and looked over his shoulder, the pupils in his eyes shrunk to a near nothingness that left the hazel in his irises shine like drops of rain in the blinding midday light. 

Magnus stuck his nose in the air. “Really? Then why on earth do you all seem to be so scared of doing the wrong thing? Why are there so many rules? If there’s no hell, then what’s the worst that can happen?” He pressed and jogged to catch up with Alec and his long legs, tugging him to a halt. “Well?”

“Somehow I doubt you actually want to know.” Alec looked down at their feet and Magnus followed suit, kicking some imaginary dust on the floor.  

“I want to know you though,” Magnus admitted, surprised at his own words as he lifted his gaze. Alec was mere inches away when their eyes met. 

Alec was the first to move, taking a small step back before gripping Magnus’ shoulders. “I believe you were taking me to hell?” He cleared his throat and Magnus offered him a knowing grin.

“Gluttony is a sin, right? Even in Mormonism?”

“Yes, one of the mortal sins. _Real bad_.” Alec chuckled. 

“Excellent, I’m taking you to the best restaurant in LA,“ Magnus exclaimed and walked towards the exit. “Are you coming? Sinning in solitary is never enjoyable.”

“I—Yeah.” Alec looked unsure and bit his lip, glancing towards a set of elegant-looking stairs before walking over to Magnus. “But it isn’t a date and Elder Lewis has to come with us.”

“Of course it’s not a date, that would get you in trouble, wouldn’t it? Never fear. Besides, as you say, Simon will be there and there’s nothing like a loud, eighteen-year-old whirlwind to kill the mood,” Magnus said and moved his hand to rest on Alec’s shoulder, trialing his fingers down the length of his arm and stopping when he reached his wrist, intertwining their middle-fingers.

He hoped Alec felt it too, that spark that shot through Magnus’ entire being whenever they touched.

* * * * *

**Alexander (21.08):** I’m still full from that meal. You were right about the gluttony. 

Magnus smiled as he adjusted his position on the sofa, rolling his eyes when the movement angered Chairman Meow who jumped off his lap with an ear-piercing shriek. “No need to be overdramatic,” He called after the cat before returning to his phone, biting his lip. 

_Magnus (21.09):_ I think you’ll find that I’m rarely wrong, Alexander. It’s one of my better qualities. 

**Alexander (21.10):** While we’re at it, overconfidence and pride are considered sins, too. ;)

Crinkling his nose, Magnus shook his head and reached for the glass of wine he had poured himself earlier, taking a small sip.

_Magnus (21.10):_ Aren’t missionaries supposed to be nice?

**Alexander (21.11):** As I think you’ve noticed, I’m not that great of a missionary. 

_Magnus (21.12):_ I beg to differ. You’re a pretty great missionary, insults and all. 

**Alexander (21.12):** No offense but coming from you, that scares me more than it reassures me. Thank goodness I’m going home in four months.

Magnus’ heart clenched at the reply, his breathing quickening as he stared at the small words. 

_Magnus (21.15):_ Where, exactly, is home?

Magnus typed and felt an unwelcomed sense of dread rush through his body, cold and painful. He felt scared at the thought of Alec going--which was ludicrous.

Ludicrous but nevertheless inevitable, it seemed. 

**Alexander (21.16):** New York. I’ll miss you when I leave too, Magnus. 

Furrowing his brows, Magnus got up from his position and walked over to the French windows to his right, staring at the stream of headlights igniting the ever-darkening dusk. He looked at the message again.

_Magnus (21.17):_ How can you be certain that’s what I was thinking?

**Alexander (21.17):** I was speaking (writing) it into existence in a way, you know, like any sane person would. Isn’t it a two-way system *I’ll miss you, therefore you’ll miss me*? ;)

Before Magnus could respond, his phone started ringing and by sheer skill he prevented it from falling to the floor out of pure chock. “Alexander?” He breathed when he saw the name on the screen. “You’re calling me.”

“I am calling you,” Alec stated, his voice low and intoxicatingly gentle. Magnus wondered if he always sounded so relaxed over the phone. 

“Why?” Magnus inquired coyly and leaned his head against the window frame, his breath fogging up the window.

“Honestly, I wanted to hear your voice. Unless you’re busy, I can-“

“No,” Magnus rushed out and groaned to himself at how desperate he sounded. Magnus was many things but desperate was not one of them. Not usually, anyway. “No, I’m not busy. I was merely under the impression that texting had become our--thing.” He finished and glanced over his shoulder when Chairman Meow made a noise from the kitchen, pressing his lips together as he made his way towards the racket.

“I suppose it has, hasn’t it?”

“So let it be written, so let it be done,” Magnus sing-songed as he poured some cat food into a bowl, placing it next to the Chairman who was busy scratching another hole in Magnus’ only pair of descent-looking sweat trousers.

“What?” Alec chuckled and despite the slight chill of the apartment, Magnus felt his face heat up. 

“Sorry, I say the weirdest things when I’m caught off guard. One of my worst qualities, as it were,” Magnus admitted sheepishly and sat down on the floor, stroking the chomping fur ball before glancing around the kitchen—vases and flowers and paintings unable to distract him from how much he wanted to see Alec in that moment. “For instance, do you know what the word _defenestration_ means?” Magnus asked, his tone light and joking. 

Alec huffed. “I don’t.”

“The action of throwing someone out of a window,” Magnus exclaimed with his usual flourish and smiled to himself when Alec barked out a heartwarming laugh on the other end of the line. 

“You need to stop making me laugh, it’s only a matter of time before I wake Simon up.”

“That’s the first time I’ve heard you call him Simon. Am I being a bad influence on you, Elder?” Magnus gasped in mock-amazement, his fingers drawing patterns of undetermined shape into the dark grey fabric of his trousers as he glanced towards the ceiling, eyes bright. 

“No. Not particularly. You do influence me though.” Magnus smiled at the other man’s tone, warming and comforting. Magnus felt like he could talk to him for hours.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Change is inevitable but good.”

The line went quiet for a while and just as Magnus was about to speak up, Alec sucked in a deep breath, clearing his throat. “Do you believe in destiny? Serendipity?”

Leaning forward and resting his forehead against his knees, Magnus felt his entire face twist in happiness—painfully and overwhelmingly and wonderfully. “Do I believe it’s possible to find something beautiful without looking for it? Yes, yes I do, Alexander. Take one look at yourself,” Magnus breathed and for probably the first time ever, he felt tears sting his eyes out of pure astonishment. 

“I wish I could see you right now,” Alec sighed, and Magnus wiped at his eyes. 

“Will I see you soon?” Magnus wondered and looked up when the Chairman nuzzled his nose into his shoulder. He tugged the cat closer to him.

“I really hope so,” Alec said, and there was some rustling on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, Magnus, I have to go. I’m getting another call.”

“Oh,” Magnus heard himself say. It sounded uncharacteristically sad. 

“Sleep well, Magnus. I look forward to seeing you again, you have no idea.”

“I think I do. Goodnight, Alexander. Sweet dreams,” Magnus whispered, and the line fell silent.

Everything was quiet again. 

“Who was that?” A familiar voice snickered, and Magnus jumped about five feet in the air—hyperbole had never hurt anyone—and hit his head on the countertop, wincing as he fell to the floor again. 

“ _Jesus_ , Raphael. You scared the living shit out of me.” 

“Don’t tell me it was that Mormon boy you were talking to just now?” Raphael grunted, and Magnus rolled his eyes, rubbing the back of his head. 

“It’s none of your business.”

“So that’s a yes then. Don’t tell me you’re falling for him,” Raphael laughed and if looks could kill, Magnus would have had him dead in a split second. “Oh my god you like him, you actually like him,” He breathed in realisation and looked at Magnus with a type of worry that inched itself under Magnus skin, making it crawl.

“Was there anything you wanted, Raphael, or did you just come in here to annoy me?”

“We’re heading out in a bit, just making sure you know what time it is,“ He said slowly and Magnus felt uncomfortable being the recipient of his judgmental look. “Unless you’re planning on going clubbing in those godawful sweat trousers?”

Shaking his head, Magnus grimaced. He really didn’t feel like going out. “I’m not going,” He decided and pulled himself to his feet, grabbing Chairman Meow and holding up his hand before Raphael could protest. “I don’t feel well. I’m going to bed. Please leave me alone.”

“I know you’re lying, you suck at it,” Raphael called after him and Magnus overtly whined at his friend—throwing one last, nasty, look over his shoulder before disappearing into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a loud _bang_. 

Magnus hated lying to Raphael, but it was easier than looking into his concerned eyes and telling him that he’d completely ignored his advice and was now falling for a Mormon missionary who, almost inevitably, was going to end up breaking his heart. 

Raphael had picked up the pieces of Magnus’ shattered heart before and it wasn’t pretty. Magnus almost felt as bad for him as he sometimes did for himself. 

“What am I supposed to do, Chairman?” Magnus cooed as the cat laid next to him on the bed, nuzzling his head into Magnus’s cheek. “What am I supposed to do?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	4. Love Does Not Envy

Magnus was sitting in his Friday lecture, pinching his leg like a maniac to keep himself from falling asleep. It was a gray and rainy day, cold winds disrupting the usual luxury that was the LA weather and had it not been far too _cliché_ for his scientifically wired brain, he’d supposed that was the reason he’d been feeling on the verge of mass murder all day.

“What’s the matter?” A voice asked from behind him as if on cue and Magnus turned around, smiling for the first time that day when his eyes landed on Catarina—she was sitting just behind him and her hand was resting on his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” He assured her and rested his hand atop hers, squeezing gently. “Apart from this lecture, I can’t believe you’re sleeping with the professor.” Magnus grimaced overdramatically and side eyed Ragnor Fell who was standing by the large whiteboard, pointing a finger in the direction of some of the unintelligible writing scribbled on it. He was wearing a moss-green-verging-on-brown corduroy three-piece suit, a pair of light brown oxfords and had Magnus been remotely serious about disliking the man, he might have let the offensive fashion-misconduct go. “I mean, look at that suit, Cat. You can do better.”

“Yeah? Like _you’re_ good at making calculated decisions,” She countered jokingly, and Magnus titled his head to kiss her knuckles just as his phone buzzed in front of him, averting his attention. 

_Speaking of calculated decisions._

**Alexander (12.41):** Look at this!

**_Image Attached_ **

Raising his brows, Magnus opened the image and bit his lip to prevent the entire lecture hall from hearing how delighted he was to receive a picture of Alec. Alec’s hair was a complete mess though, his usual white button up had been replaced by a black extremely tight-fitting T-shirt, and he was covered in flour, blotches of white dusted on his cheeks, his chest, and his shoulders as he grinned at the camera.

Magnus shook his head in endearment, the grays of the gloomy day suddenly nothing more than a distant memory.  

 _Magnus (12.42):_ I am certain I want to hear this story. What on earth happened, Alexander?

 **Alexander (12.43):** I’m baking.

 **Alexander (12.43):** I’m not very good at it…

Magnus snorted and lifted his head when Ragnor stopped speaking for a moment, gesturing with his hand in Magnus’ direction—the professor's nostrils flared, and he looked humoursly displeased with the situation.

“Anything you want to share with us, Mr. Bane?” He grumbled in his generic English accent, and Magnus rolled his eyes when a small smile crossed the man’s admittedly handsome features, a quirky brow raised in his and Catarina’s direction.  _Professional professor my ass._ “It sounded like you were having a jolly good time with your phone. Interrupt my class again and I will display whatever appropriate conversation you appear to be having to the entire class. That goes for you too, Ms. Loss,” Ragnor pressed, sarcasm in lieu of judgement, before turning back towards the board, his back as stiff as a broom where he jotted down yet another definition of certain unimportance.

Magnus simply scoffed and slumped further down in his seat.

“Isn’t he lovely? Whenever you and that mysterious man of yours sort things out, we’re going on a double date,” Catarina whispered imperatively into the back of his head and Magnus barked out a loud laugh, making every head in the hall turn towards him.

“Sorry, sorry,” Magnus snickered before turning his head to look at Catarina, eyebrows raised in amusement. “You know I adore you, but that’s never going to happen. Alexander and I are just _friends_ , he’s a Mormon missionary for God’s sake,” He whispered, turning around in his chair. “Where do you and Raphael get these preposterous ideas from anyway?”

“See, your mouth keeps saying that, but your eyes tell a completely different story, Magnus. You’re so smitten with the man, it’s almost unbearable to look at. It’s obvious, darling.” Catarina waved a nonchalant hand in his direction, leaning over her desk to kiss him on the cheek—gently and kindly. Magnus couldn’t stop himself from leaning into her touch.

“I hate all of you,” He lied and repositioned himself in his chair, letting his eyes fall to the board once more before averting his attrition to his phone, and Alec, yet again--it appeared to be a power of Alec’s, Magnus realized, distracting him to the point where houses could burn, and worlds could end without him noticing.  

“We love you, too,” Catarina teased from behind him but Magnus barely heard her, busy trying to rid himself of that fluttering feeling in his chest as he looked at the picture of Alec with wide eyes—Alec, although it was hardly a surprise let alone an anomaly anymore, was the type of stunning that erased all reason and equitable judgement.

 _Magnus (12.45):_ Need some help? ;)

 **Alexander (12.46** ): Let’s just say it’s a good thing the church has a fire extinguisher. Take from that what you will.  

Magnus bit the inside of his cheek, desperate not to think of Alec holding a fire extinguisher while wearing that sinfully tight black T-shirt—to no avail, of course.

 _Magnus (12.46):_ My lecture finishes in ten minutes. See you in an hour?

 **Alexander (12.47):**  I can’t wait to see you.

 _Magnus (12.47):_ We saw each other four days ago.

 **Alexander (12.48):** I know.

Magnus let out a shaky breath, crossing his legs as he twirled the rings on his fingers with near hypnotizing continuity. A hand fell to his shoulder once again.

“Do you have a picture of him?” Catarina wondered and Magnus, despite his better judgment, caved and handed her his phone, smiling to himself when she hummed approvingly. “He’s drop-dead gorgeous,” She commented quietly, patting Magnus on the shoulder as she handed the phone back to him.

Magnus moved his hand and intertwined their fingers, leaning his cheek against their hands, sighing. “I know,” He muttered and chewed his lip, tying to wrap his head around the fact that he might be falling for Alec. “He’s kind, too. The type of person who, when the time comes, will be impossible to say goodbye to.”

“Magnus,” She hissed quietly, leaning closer to him--he could feel her breath on his neck now. “What are you talking about?”

Huffing out a small laugh, Magnus glanced around the lecture hall—eyes falling to familiar faces belonging to familiar people and familiar personalities—and felt a crippling sadness wash over him. “He lives in New York. Sooner or later he will go back, and I don’t know if I’ll know what to do once he does,” Magnus admitted and pressed his lips together, looking down at the phone in his hands.

“It’ll be worth it.” She touched his hair with her fingers, caressing it gently—it felt oddly intimate in the spacious lecture hall. “If you really care for him, it’ll be worth it. Don’t worry so much about the future, just—let things happen _then_ figure out what to do."

“Tell that to Raphael,” Magnus mumbled and tilted his head to look up at her, the corner of his eyes crinkling ever so slightly.

“What does he know? He’s studying literature,” She exclaimed, and Magnus couldn’t find it in himself to suppress the giggle that followed, patting her hand before turning back to stare at Ragnor—he side-eyed them when Magnus decided to take interest in his phone instead, fully set on ignoring the last minutes of the lecture.

 _Magnus (12.52):_ My friend Catarina thinks you’re “drop-dead gorgeous”.

 **Alexander (12.53):** You showed her the picture? :O

 _Magnus (12.54):_ Can you blame me? ;)

 **Alexander (12.54):** It’s only fair if I get a picture of you in return. An eye for an eye…

Magnus bit his lip, feeling his cheeks fluster as he opened the camera to take a quick selfie, seeing his glittery eyeliner glimmer in the brightly lit room. 

He sent it.

 **Alexander (12.55):** Breathtaking. 

Magnus dropped the phone to his lap and leaned forward, giddy and overjoyed as he buried his face in his hands, his heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

It seemed awfully inconvenient, the fact that his happiness had come to be so outrageously linked to Alec. Foolish even. But—and as much as Magnus would like it to be disproven, preferably by science—he appeared to have no control over how he felt for the other man, and there appeared to be no feasible way for him to reverse time, or his feelings, and go back to a time when texts didn’t make him blush like a thirteen-year-old pubescent teenager. Which was a great shame and an overly attractive train of thought until another message buzzed Magnus back to reality and that distracting, fluttering feeling grew even more prominent in his already burning chest.

Looking down at his phone with a momentous kind of reluctance, Magnus realized that he was quite possibly as screwed as a person had the capacity of being, especially when his eyes landed on the short piece of writing that made his bottom lip tremble in awe.

 **Alexander (12.56):** “You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.”- Song of Solomon 4:7.

 

\-----

 

Magnus glanced at his reflection in the windows of the church—fussing over the maroon shirt, the navy vest, and the beige and grey thin checkered slacks he was wearing—as he waltzed up the now familiar steps and rolled back his shoulders, giving himself a mental pep-talk as he stepped inside—the smell of the church, however hard Magnus tried to deny it, provided a sense of tranquility to settle his racing heart.

When it had started doing that, Magnus wasn’t sure.

“Magnus, thank goodness.” Alec’s voice greeted him almost immediately from where he was sitting atop the stairs to the left of the entrance, making Magnus' face split in half as an abnormally toothy grin crossed his features.

Alec was evidently still covered in flour and Magnus decided that it was the single most adorable thing he’d ever seen.

“Hello to you, too, Alexander,” Magnus murmured and made his way towards the man, the sound of his boots salient in the eerie silence that always seemed to hover over the church. “Don’t you look dashing.”

Blushing, Alec got to his feet, jogging down the stairs. “Yeah, well, turns out that baking is in fact a lot more complicated than they make it out to be.” A sheepish grin spread across his face and Magnus couldn’t help but laugh, glancing up at Alec with amused eyes.

“If you look like that I’m almost certain I don’t want to see the state of the kitchen,” Magnus jested and felt his eyes widen when Alec took yet another step closer to him, wrapping his strong—very strong—arms around his shoulders.

“Hey,” Alec whispered, his voice low and slightly raspy where it tickled Magnus’ nape—it made him disconcertedly lightheaded.

“Hi,” Magnus whispered in return and leaned into the touch, for the first time breathing in the scent of Alec’s skin—it was coloured by the scent of the cologne he always seemed to be wearing mixed with something that was--unique to Alec.

Too mesmerized to behave normally, Magnus barely had time to collect himself and return the hug before Alec stepped back—though it was probably for the best, Magnus thought to himself. He wasn’t sure how long he could be that close to Alec without doing something entirely inappropriate. “How was your morning?” Alec asked, and gestured with his arm in the direction of the stairs, opting Magnus to precede in ascending.

 _Apart from the fact that the picture you sent me nearly induced a panic attack?_ Magnus wanted to say but decided against it, going with something far more civil for the time being. “Oh, nothing much. Lectures.” Magnus waved a hand in Alec’s direction and was delighted when Alec’s eyes followed its movements with impressive precision. “Nothing I’d want to bore you with, anyway.”

“Nothing you say could ever be boring,” Alec stated matter-of-factly, and Magnus stopped at the top of the stairs, watching Alec in astonishment as said man pushed past him, tugging on his arm towards what Magnus suspected was the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” Magnus exclaimed once his eyes averted from Alec and fell to the mess that, indeed, was the kitchen--flour, pots, pans, bowls, and cacao powder covering every surface. “You weren’t kidding.”

“Elder Lightwood never jokes around, he’s literally the most literal person I’ve ever met.” Simon’s voice echoed from some other room and Magnus pirouetted in an attempt to locate him, to no avail as it were. Mormons, it seemed, had a habit of keeping things, and apparently people, hidden.

“Hey,” Alec muttered, pointing a finger in Magnus’ direction. “Don’t take anything he says seriously.”

“Don’t worry, Alexander,” Magnus all but purred and walked over to him, patting him on the chest. “I don’t trust anyone who uses _literal_ twice in one clause. I’m no linguist but even I think that’s semantically preposterous.” Magnus grimaced overdramatically, glancing up at Alec through his lashes.

The black T-shirt he was wearing looked even better in person and if Magnus’ eyes kept travelling to his impressively large pecs when Alec wasn’t looking, nobody needed to know.

“Anyway,” Alec cleared his throat and Magnus realized just how close they were when he felt the taller man’s breath ghost his features. He dropped his hand from Alec’s chest. “Baking, yes. This lady texted us yesterday asking if Elder Lewis and I could assist in baking cupcakes for the Young Women’s choir practice later today. We’re basically not allowed to say no hence why this happened. Gosh, it really is a mess, isn’t it?”

“Yes,  _Elder_ , it’s indeed a mess. But-“ Magnus walked over the to pick up a bowl that had been discarded on the floor, inspecting it with skeptical eyes. “-you came to the right place. I love baking.”

“ _You_ love baking?” Alec asked, and it was endearing how perplexed he sounded.

“Yes, Alexander. I take offense that you seem surprised by the fact.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that, You’re just a bit--scary. And you always wear dark clothing. Not pink, fluffy things—stereotypical connotations of baking,” Alec spluttered and rubbed his neck nervously, offering Magnus a weak-ass attempt at a smile.

“You think I’m scary?” Magnus gaped and narrowed his eyes at the man, feeling the corners of his lips curve upwards.

“I—no. Well--charmingly intimidating, actually.” Alec turned away from him and began poking at the flour on the marble counter with his finger. “It’s s a good thing, Magnus. Honestly. You have this presence about you that catches me off guard sometimes. Scary in a--kind type of way.”

“You say the nicest things, Alexander. It’s like you’re flirting with me,” Magnus retorted sarcastically and winked when Alec looked up at him. The blush that swept across his face, however momentary, was pretty enough to make Magnus weak to the knees.

“Flirting with people is against missionary rules so no, I’m not flirting with you.” Alec raised a challenging eyebrow and leaned his elbow on the counter, tipping his head to the side. There was a mischievous spark in his eyes when he continued. “Besides, _Magnus_ , you’ll know when I’m flirting with you.”

Dropping the bowl to the sink, Magnus pursed his lips as he walked closer to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” The fake-finality in the man’s voice was enough for Magnus to know that he was messing with him, his hazel eyes warm and bright where they pierced into Magnus'.

_God, he was handsome._

Instead of saying that and letting Alec win whatever silent battel he’d initiated, Magnus dragged his black-pained fingernail across the counter and flicked the access flour in Alec’s face. “You’re officially the worst missionary I’ve ever met,” Magnus breathed and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from giggling out loud at the wide, toothy grin covering Alec’s face.

_God, why did he have to be so handsome?_

“You only know two missionaries,” Alec pointed out and before Magnus could comprehend what was happening, a cloud of flour surrounded him and a pair of arms held him in place—they were gentle, and grounding and Magnus realized in slight distain that he never wanted them to let go.

By the time the flour had settled, Magnus had lost all self-respect and was teary eyed and gasping for air, clutching at Alec as high-pitched, happy laughter echoed throughout the kitchen. “Screw you,” Magnus exclaimed and when he lifted his eyes to glare at Alec, he found him mere inches away, staring at him with that look in his eyes, the one Magnus couldn’t quite put his finger on.

But it made the whole world stop for a moment, the kitchen surrounding them filtering away as they breathed the same air, noses nearly touching. Alec’s fingers were digging into Magnus’ shoulders, doing little to ease his racing heart, and for a moment, however brief, Magnus felt him lean even closer, his warm, mint-smelling breath tingling Magnus’ lips as he tilted his head to the side.

Magnus let his gaze fall to Alec’s lips.

“I wish,” Alec muttered quietly, and before Magnus could register the words, let alone comment on the absolute panicked excitement they instilled in him, two fingers were caressing his cheek, brushing off the access flour with a tentative carefulness that left Magnus unable to do anything but grab onto the man’s wrist.

His ring-clad fingers were warm against Alec’s skin and regardless of Catarina’s optimism and Raphael’s lack thereof, Magnus’ heart was set aflame. Alec was so close, so perfectly within his reach yet simultaneously so off-limits that it hurt to breathe.

Swallowing thickly, Magnus licked his upper teeth and tipped his head heavenward, shuddering breaths escaping his lips. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” Alec breathed, and Magnus could feel the intensity that radiated through his eyes without even looking at him. Without trying, it seemed, he made Magnus feel like the most priceless piece of art. Like the pieces of ancient beauty that people looked at with care, as if they carried a splendor so breathtaking that it was hard to look away.

Magnus wasn’t sure why, but he even believed Alec—Magnus, out of nowhere and completely unexpectedly, felt more beautiful than he ever remembered feeling. “Alexander,” He therefore choked out after a while, his voice nothing but a soft gust of air in the quiet kitchen. It was probably for the best, Magnus mused, Simon--wherever he was hiding—didn’t need to hear how completely out of breath he sounded.

“Do you always wear makeup?” Alec wondered, and Magnus dared his own eyes to meet Alec’s hazel—unapologetically and sincere where they all but burned brighter than any comet Magnus had ever seen.

Magnus felt the corner of his lip turn upwards. “Always so blunt, Alexander,” He whispered and started tracing circular patterns into the taller man’s wrist.

“I— _you_ bring it out of me. I don’t normally say whatever’s on my mind, you know,” Alec admitted, and a sheepish expression crossed his features, the utmost high of his cheekbones burning a bright red even under the layers of flour.

It was positively gorgeous. 

“Yes, I always wear some—type—of makeup. Unless I’m sleeping, of course,” Magnus affirmed, realizing that his free hand must have moved to Alec’s waist since he could feel the way Alec’s quiet laugh vibrated through his rib-cage, soft tremors of happiness that made Magnus feel more alive than he had in a while. “Why?”

“It suits you,” Alec mumbled, and Magnus wasn’t sure why out of all the things Alec could have said, he was the most surprised to hear that. “It never looks too much or too little. It looks—just right.”

Shaking his head, Magnus chuckled. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You face mid-laugh.” Alec said suddenly and Magnus briefly wondered if the man had gone insane.

“What?" 

“That’s what makes me say stupid things,” Alec spoke, and Magnus released the grip he had on Alec’s wrist when the man’s fingers started moving across his cheek again. “The way your eyes crinkle _here_ ,” Alec caressed the lines beginning to form around Magnus’ eyes. “The way you scrunch up your nose and the way your brows furrow together as if you’re angry.” Alec’s fingers moved to the space between Magnus’ brows, pressing down gently. “When you look like that it’s impossible to look away. More impossible than usual, anyway. You look so—happy.” Alec looked downwards and Magnus, who always had a snarky comeback to most things in life, was at a completely loss of words.

 _Again_.

“I wish I could kiss you,” Was not what Magnus wanted to say, but simply what came out. His reasoning and self-discipline were far gone anyway and when Alec looked at him like that, when he was _that_ _close_ , could anyone really blame him?

Alec looked torn, his pupils slightly dilated and his lips pressed together. And he was blushing again, bright and scarlet, and for a moment Magnus cursed the world for how they met. “Magnus, I wish—I just—I really do. But I can’t—I shouldn’t.”

“Of course.” Magnus shook his head and took a step back, pursing his lips in an attempt to conceal how much Alec’s words of logical reasoning actually hurt.

Magnus had known _that_ getting into this, Raphael had told him repeatedly, yet when it was the single thing he wanted in the moment it hurt like a fucking knife being stabbed into his chest and he almost regretted meeting Alec. And he certainly hated the church even more than before.

A hand cupped his cheek.

“It doesn’t change anything I’ve said, Magnus. It doesn’t.” Alec’s voice was quiet, careful, and he sounded—sad. His usually authoritative tone was wavering and had Magnus had a modicum of self-control he might have walked away right there and then—saved himself the trouble of hurting even more—but he seemed unable to, leaning into the comfort that was Alec’s hand against his face instead.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?” Magnus said and, even to his own ears, he sounded unreasonably defeated.

“That I want to kiss you but can’t?” Alec’s voice was nothing more than a whisper, verging on inaudible. “Sometimes, but hating this-“ He gestured to himself then to the kitchen. “-would make me even more miserable. There’s no use in envying something you can’t have. God has a plan for all of us, it’s just a matter of time before things start sorting themselves out. Then—then there will be no need for envy because all will be right.”

Scoffing, Magnus looked down at their feet. “I thought you didn’t believe in God?”

“What makes you think that?”

“The way you speak about the church—you don’t sound like a man of faith.” Magnus huffed out. 

“I resent the church, and I resent the fact that who I am is wrong in the church members’ eyes. But-“ And there was a lightness to the way the next words flowed out of Alec’s mouth. “-I still believe in God. The issues I have with the church are all man-made, flaws created by man for man and if you strip the church of its layers—one by one—you end up with just the Bible. A God, loving and almighty, who sent his only son to die so that we-“ Alec caressed Magnus’ cheek, pressing their noses together. ”-could live. A God that loving wouldn’t hate people for the colour of their skin or condemn people to misery because of who they fall in love with.

I don’t believe in the God the church portrays, but I believe in God. It helps me sleep at night—knowing, I guess, that he will make things right simply because he loves us.” Alec closed his eyes and as atheist as Magnus was, Alec’s words still made the hairs on his arm stand up straight.

“If you weren’t a missionary would you have let me kiss you?” Magnus asked when Alec said nothing further.

“If I weren’t a missionary _I_ would have kissed _you_ \--a long time ago, Magnus.” Alec chuckled softly and moved his hand from Magnus’ cheek to tuck a strand of his bangs back in place. He opened his eyes. “Look at you. I-" 

“You’ve guys are super quiet. Did you finally let the blender get the best of you and die?” Simon’s chipper tone startled them out of their little bubble and just like that there was an arm’s length of distance between them. “You’ve got something in your hair,” Simon noted as he strode into the room and pointed a finger at Magnus, his youthful appearance doing little to cover up the annoying smirk tugging at his lips. Had Alec looked like Simon—dressed in the usual white button up, black tie, and black slacks—Magnus reckoned he would have been able to keep his mouth shut.

But Alec didn’t and that was that.  

“No shit, Sherwin.” Magnus huffed out and ran a trembling hand over his face, brushing as much of the flour off as he could without completely butchering his makeup. To Magnus’s surprise, however, Alec hadn’t taken his eyes off of him and if it had been distracting before, it was impossible to ignore now. Epically with Simon so close that he could probably taste the tension between them had he been slightly less clueless.

“Elder lightwood tried using the blender earlier which is why there’s flour everywhere. Normally, you know, he’s really smart but he forgot to put on the lid which is ridiculous. Funny story actually--before I left on my mission, my mom had this huge _huge_ oven—it’s broken now but we used to bake all the time. Well, she did-“ As Simon kept rambling Magnus leaned his elbow on the counter and rested his chin in his hands, surprised—yet not at all if he was being completely honest—that Alec came up next to him, so close in fact that their arms were firmly pressed together.

Alec leaned closer to him. “If Simon hadn’t interrupted us I think I would have ended up kissing you. Even though I shouldn’t.”

Magnus felt a chill run down his spine as he pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes trailing after Simon who was walking around the kitchen, broom in hand, talking to himself as he cleaned. “Yeah?” Magnus exhaled, and he could hear the small trace of hope as clear as day in his own voice.

Alec leaned back and smiled at him, shyly but brilliantly as he crossed his arms in front of him. “Yeah.”

“You better make up your mind, Alexander. I’m well versed in most things but you’re continuously confusing me—mixing signals left and right like the embodiment of the OED definition of hypocrisy.” Magnus whispered, looking down at his hands—he felt incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden.

Magnus had always had the unfortunate tendency of wearing his heart on his sleeve and he wasn’t sure, and he couldn’t tell, what Alec was going to do with it.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Magnus muttered and narrowed his eyes when Alec raised his brows. 

“Why are you here?” 

Sighing, Magnus poked at the flour on the counter. “I suspect you already know the answer to that question, Alexander.”

“Maybe,” Alec commenced, and Magnus looked up at him, Simon’s oblivious rambling echoing in the background. “But why waste your time on someone like me when you’re— _you_? Attractive, authoritative, intelligent, kind—you can have anyone.” Alec trailed off, his tone of voice low in comparison to Simon’s ongoing anecdote.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Magnus sighed and stood up straight, tilting his head at Alec. “That’s exactly why I’m here--because you’re the opposite of what I’m used to. Besides, I can’t have _anyone_. I’m a lot to get used to—some people might even call me scary.” Magnus winked at Alec who shook his head slowly, his eyelashes casting dark shadows down his cheeks.

“Thanks for coming today,” Alec said after a while, the sincerity in his voice impossible to ignore. 

“Anytime,” Magnus admitted and felt his heart swell when he realized how true it was—it was as nice as it was intimidating, Magnus supposed. “It’s like we’re not even here.” He laughed after a moment and waved his fingers in Simon’s direction, happy to see the corners of Alec’s lips tug downwards into a smirk.

“Yeah,” Alec mumbled, bumping their shoulders together. “Convenient, isn’t it?” The prosody of his voice was as smooth as silk, dangerously soft to the point where Magnus had to bite his lip to prevent himself from saying something-- _unseemly_. 

“The things you do to me, Alexander,” Magnus muttered harmlessly, not even bothering trying to hide the blush that warmed his cheeks because he knew that if he looked up at Alec, he would find him blushing, too.

 

. . . . .

 

Flour was leaving a trail behind Magnus as he left the church, its remains leaving the maroon of his shirt coloured a raspberry-red in the darkening evening.

Not that he minded, of course. 

Despite his obvious state of dishevel, nothing but happiness coursed through Magnus’ veins, all-consuming and cunningly familiar where it twisted his lips upwards. Magnus couldn’t remember ever having smiled as much as he had done since meeting Alec and that joyous feeling, the one tugging at his heart as he remembered Alec’s words and the way he had looked at him, kept growing ever more permanent.

Had it not been so damn comfortable it might have worried Magnus.

“Magnus,”  _His_ voice, low and familiar at this point, called and Magnus turned on his heel, déjà vu overwhelming him when Alec jogged down the steps of the church, gaze fixed on the tarmac on which he was running. “Wait up.”

Alec, _Alexander_ , was just as flour-covered and messy-looking as Magnus--the muscles in his arms were flexed, the dark fabric of his shirt highlighting his broad shoulders--and his face twisted in contentment, the left corner of his mouth tugging downwards into a lopsided grin when their eyes met.

There weren’t enough words in the few languages Magnus knew that could describe how utterly beautiful Alec looked in that moment—let alone enough adjectives to accurately describe the breathtaking look in his eyes.

“Did I forget something?” Magnus wondered when Alec came to a stop, readjusting his spiderweb ear-cuff nervously when Alec just stared at him—the setting sun shone right on them, the faltering rays bright but merciful and had Alec’s eyes looked hazel before, they were positively burning when they squinted at the sun.

“Forgive me,” Alec whispered imperatively, to what or whom Magnus wasn’t entirely sure, but before he could inquire, Alec was defying all protocol and leaning forward, smiling into the kiss that Magnus—despite the vast number of people he had kissed—believed to outshine hem all.

It almost seemed like an accident, so careful and tentative. It was slow, too, their lips barely moving as they pressed together but it felt paradoxically experienced. Lips who had kissed before meeting, heat against heat and while Magnus was both frozen in place and hyperbolically burning alive, he felt a shiver so intense run down the length of his spine that it made his half-opened eyes blur.

 _So that’s what it was supposed to feel like_.

It could have been seconds or years for all Magnus knew, the feeling of Alec on him so infuriatingly out-of-the-ordinary, before they both pulled back, gasping for air. Magnus--embarrassingly beside himself with emotion--sneaked his trembling arms around Alec’s waist and held him close, burying his face in his neck as he willed his brain to catch up with his feelings.

“Alexander,” He all but choked out, the entire process of breathing suddenly intimidating and judging by the bursts of air caressing his neck in return, Alec was having an equally hard time processing his own actions. “What on earth have you done?”

Alec didn’t answer, Magnus, quite frankly, wasn’t even sure if he had heard his question, so they just stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms until Alec took a step back and straightened his stance—it was like a switch had been turned and his shoulders reigned that authoritative tenseness that Magnus had grown so accustomed to.

“Will I see you again?” Alec wondered lowly, his voice hoarse and attractively husky, and while he looked more like a missionary in that moment than he ever had before, Magnus shook his head and took a step closer to him, eyes burning with emotion.

“I hope so,” He whispered, watching Alec’s small smile with weary eyes. “Alexander?” Magnus added just before Alec walked away. “You’re _fucking_ amazing, keep your chin up. Be proud of who you are and you’ll blow up the very ground you stand on. Like you did just now. Who cares what they think?” Magnus whispered and turned on his heel before Alec could react, feeling with a sense of enamoured uncertainty how Alec’s gaze followed his every movement.

It wasn’t until later that evening, when Magnus was half-asleep and reading in bed, that his phone chimed and a message lit up his dusky room.

 **Alexander (23.45):** I don’t regret it, just so you know. Blowing up the ground or not, I’d do it again.

Magnus closed his eyes and buried his face in his pillow, feeling the Chairman purr against his hand.

 _Magnus (23.46):_ I’m glad to hear that though I must say, it caught me off guard. Not that it should have, you always seem to find new ways to surprise me.

 **Alexander (23.47):** Goodnight Magnus, sweet dreams. <3

 **Alexander (23.47):** For the record, I get what you meant earlier. You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever known before, unlike anyone I ever thought would want me, and as much as it terrifies me, nothing has made me happier. Keep your chin up too, Magnus. You’re wonderful, inside and out. Sleep tight.

Smiling like a maniac, Magnus shook his head and orchestrated a semi-unconscious reply before he dropped the phone to his bedside table and tugged Chairman Meow closer to his chest, a rose-read tone of scarlet crossing his features as sleep overtook him.

 _Magnus (23.49):_ Goodnight, Alexander. Spending today with you was perfect. Sweet dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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